Racing
by turbomagnus
Summary: Two teenagers race while thinking about life.


Summary: Two teenagers race while thinking about life.  
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related material is owned by Hasbro.  
Author's Note: Looking at us, I see connections I never did. Hot Rod isn't even my favorite Generation One Autobot, that belongs to Kup, Bumblebee, and the Dinobots, but I see them. It's less a mirror than a fun house mirror, warped, changed, but still a reflection. Two carefree teenagers who have something happen to force them to mature, questioning themselves during it, and when that's lost try and act like the wild youths they're not anymore, Leading to overdoing it. I chose to talk to Hot Rod about this, even if only in my mind. This is that story ...

* * *

"Racing"  
By J.T. Magnus, "Turbo"

* * *

The Tennessee Valley area is filled with back roads perfect for street racing, as the two red vehicles seemed hell bent on proving. The almost-blood red minivan should have been unable to keep up with, much less pass the bright red hot rod, but the driver at the wheel had made a habit out of pushing it past its apparent limits without damaging it. A headset mic rested on the young man's head as he broke ninety on the semi-straightaway, pulling even with his Cybertronian opponent.

"It hurts still."

The driver nodded. These racing talks had become habit. He'd been born the same year the Transformers had awoke and lived less than an hour from Autobot City in Tennessee itself. He recalled the first time it had happened. He had been out driving to clear his mind after a fight with his father and a red car blew past him. He'd seen it as a challenge and spent the next half hour proving that "Ironhide" might not be his namesake, but he and his driver could hold their own together. The driver didn't care that the driverless car he was racing was obviously an Autobot, he needed to focus on something and this was it. When the red hot rod, Hot Rod by name as he was by action, had beat him to Autobot City, the driver challenged him to a second race a week later. These weekly races from the driver's hometown to Autobot City had become tradition over the past four years, broken only by Hot Rod's time as Rodimus Prime.

"Yeah."

It hurt still, Hot Rod could understand, he'd been there twice. First losing Arcee to Springer because of being Rodimus, then losing Rodimus. It wasn't until he'd returned to being Hot Rod that he realized that even with his lack of confidence in his leadership abilities he MISSED being Rodimus. He was the only one who compared him to Optimus. The only one who expected him to become in a year what his predecessor had become in millions.

"It hurts still."

The driver had almost sworn himself to a life of bohemianism when it happened. One day he'd stopped being her friend and had fallen in love with her. Ten months of bliss. January to November . . . Oh, what a birthday surprise . . . "Let's Be Friends." Not her words, but her meaning. No matter what anyone else said, he knew two things: It was NOT better to have loved and lost, and the three most painful words in the English language or Galactic Standard, depending on your home world, were those.

"Yeah."

First he'd lost the one he loved. In a way, Turbo was lucky, Hot Rod mused, using his human friend's nickname, he had been in a long distance relationship. Hot Rod, or rather Rodimus had been forced to live each day of almost a year seeing the girl he loved with his best friend and knowing that even if they weren't together, there would still be almost no chance of Arcee and Rodimus. Optimus was lucky, Hot Rod thought without the self-questioning that had plagued Rodimus, that the one he'd loved was equal to him. No disparity in the ranks. Then just as he'd begun to grow into the Mantle of Leadership forced on him by the Matrix of Leadership, Optimus had returned and he became Hot Rod again.

At the Tennessee state line the van was behind, "Ironhide's over a decade old, isn't it time to replace him?"

Primus, HE'D even started referring to it as a being.

"You've had that body for longer than that, isn't it time to replace it . . . Sunstreaker?"

Hot Rod winced. With no disrespect to the Autobot warrior, his name had become a term for a Cybertronian who was vain. The same way Slag's name had become a swear word.

"Tell you what, I'll change bodies if you'll upgrade. I mean, wheels aren't even USED anymore."

"You use wheels."

"DAMN!"

"And have absorbed the language, I see."

The driver, one J.T. Magnus, called Turbo by many, had his usual smug look on his face matched by the smugness Hot Rod was giving off. When the other Autobots had met the human, they and the Witwickys had joked about how a human and Cybertronian could be brothers. The two had to admit they acted like it, even their name and nickname were similar. Turbo, a term for a burst of speed. Hot Rod, a fast car. Speed and the love of it were the biggest thing they had in common, that and the teenage period of their lives with all the ups, downs, joys, and woes it had.

Hot Rod would have shook his head had he been in humanoid mode. Only they saw the truth in each other that they were acting like they'd never be again. Love had taken its toll on one, leadership on the other. Smokescreen was a good counselor and listener, but there was too much of a difference in their ages for him to really understand. Turbo was human, sure, but the right equivalent age to be going through the same problems.

Autobot City came up fast . . .

"I win."


End file.
